


Will You?

by amanounmei



Series: Wishes [1]
Category: DCU
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:50:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1255255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amanounmei/pseuds/amanounmei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything is good in Bruce Wayne's life, and it is about to get even better as his relationship progresses to that one important question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will You?

„Bruce? Is everything alright?”

He blinked, his sight almost instantly focusing on that aged, gentle face of Martha Kent before him, across the table. She gave him that kind, concerned motherly smile and her eyes scanned him from behind her glasses.

“Don't worry, Ma,” a voice said from Bruce's left, and it took him far too long to realize it was Clark talking. “He's probably thinking about some case he's left unfinished, as always.”

Her eyebrows rose in a bit of a scolding way, even though the smile never left her face. “Really, Bruce,” she said in that firm, parental tone he has not heard in far too long. “You need to learn to relax or you're going to give yourself a heart attack at forty!”

“Sorry, ma'am,” was Wayne's almost immediate reply. Old ladies always had a way of making him pause in whatever he was doing, and even make him reconsider whatever he had planned. He was certain it was solely because he never got to have a grandmother himself, and hardly had a mother at all.

But Martha Kent fell into a completely different category in his life; not only did she share her name with his late mother, she did not seem to care about his riches, about his mission, about his arrogance. She never said it out loud, but from the moment she first met him she treated him almost like another son. In time he confessed to her who he was and what made him the way he was, and since then all she cared about was alleviating his pain, filling that gap in his heart. She did it in a very simple, direct way, and even though Bruce never really said it, it was clear to everyone how much he appreciated her care. Jonathan, her husband, was there for him too, although a father figure was not something he lacked.

And Clark was glad for all of this, too.

Wayne looked back down at his nearly untouched meal. It was hardly anything as fancy as what Alfred cooked for him every day, the veal in parmesan and baked pheasant and duck in oranges. But Ma Kent had a unique way of making the simplest ingredients into the most delicious meal of his life, time after time. He supposed it was some sort of secret knowledge all old ladies possessed over time.

“So how long has it been?” Jonathan asked, looking from his son to the guest in a way that suggested that they should know what he was talking about.

“Two years,” Clark said, clearly picking the topic up faster than the other man. He sent him a small, warm smile.

“You boys getting serious then?” came the mandatory, awkward question. Those always have to be asked at family reunions.

It was Bruce's turn to respond. “Yes,” he said without hesitation. “We've been serious for a while, really. I asked Clark to move in with me.”

Martha beamed as he poured both of them some fresh juice. She looked at her son. “So when are you moving?” she asked as if the fact that he agreed was so obvious that it did not require confirmation.

“As soon as I transfer to Gotham's division of the Daily Planet,” the Kryptonian said, frowning a little over his glasses. He got so used to wearing them when he was not in his suit that he did not take them off very often even among those who knew he does not really need them. “It's a fairly new unit, so I might actually get a better job. Nothing's certain yet, though,” he added quickly, seeing his mother's overjoyed expression.

“We also decided to make it public,” their guest added, not really sure why he was spilling the beans on his relationship so easily. Details of his previous relationships that were not for show – for cover, to be precise – were nobody's business and even when they got serious, he did not talk about them very much. He liked keeping to himself, but having this elderly couple there for him, having _parents_ to talk to made him open up like never before.

They were not his parents, of course, but they were as close as one could get emotionally. Perhaps he could fix it in legal terms, eventually.

“And that's the spirit,” Jonathan commanded. “Fixing the world doesn't always require a cape and mask.”

Nothing else needed to be added. Superheroes did wonders when it came to fighting crime, from petty to global to universal, but not everything could be dealt with from behind a mask. Superpowers did little to promote equality, quite the opposite, since those of the likes of Superman or Green Lantern were hardly seen as normal people. That was when the secret identities came in, the people behind the emblems. A public figure, be it an actor or a reporter or a philanthropist CEO, coming out as anything other than society wanted gave leverage to those who could not enjoy such freedom themselves.

Bruce even had plans for some more charitable events for the promotion of equal rights for not only gays like him, but also all the other minorities; the transgender people, intersex people and all the others he could not even name at that moment.  Maybe he should establish a safe place for them to meet, a club or two. But, one step at a time.

Eventually he and Clark excused themselves from the table. They were spending the nights of their visit in the Kryptonian's old room, but they needed nothing more. The room was still full of his simple, boyish toys, the baseball and the bat – which was almost funny – the building blocks, the teddy bears. The poster of his favourite basketball team that his parents got for his birthday once still hung in its place above the bed.

All in all, Kent could not help but smile each time he stepped into all those memories, and his boyfriend enjoyed this change to such mundane, everyday, plain atmosphere. A change to a childhood he himself barely had.

As soon as the door was closed, two strong arms embraced him from behind. “What's wrong, darling?” Clark asked.

“Nothing's wrong,” Bruce replied, leaning into that secure embrace. “I'm just a bit distracted, that's all.”

“You know Tim is on the case of that murder,” the other said, a frown on his face. He hated when his partner got so broody, especially since they came all the way to Smallville to get his mind off things. They went over it so many times... “You really need to learn to think of other things, or I swear you'll have a heart attack like Ma said.”

Instead of waiting for a reply, he moved one of his large hands down the other man's side, slowly, teasingly. “And I know just the thing to help you...”

The neck was quite eagerly exposed when he lowered his lips to it, planting soft kisses over those tense muscles, over that pale skin. A quiet moan answered him, and soon his hands unbuckled the belt.

“Tell me how much you want this...” he whispered into Wayne's ear, sliding his hand into his pants and teasing the hardening shaft by touching it with nothing more than the tips of his fingers.

Bruce tried bucking into that touch, but failed to bring his demanding erection any closer to actual pleasure. The arms held him firmly, restraining his movement enough for him not to be able to take control.

And he loved it. This was the one, the only aspect of his life where he did not need nor want to be in charge.  He could and did that with most partners, he could shelve his submissive urges, but not with him. Superman was different, he was – at least physically – the perfect man, and they got to know each other so well over time that Bruce was not afraid of him anymore. The control freak that he was, he trusted him unconditionally and knew that no matter how far this intimate game of theirs would go, he would not be hurt. Because Kal-El was a good man. Yet the sheer thought of belonging to someone so powerful made Wayne want to drop to his knees and obey his every command.

He was, after all, fucking a god.

“I want it so much...” he said quietly, pulling his head further to the side, inviting Clark to kiss his neck some more. “I can't wait...”

The Kryptonian smirked, and it was audible in his voice. “For what?”

“To feel you inside me...” Bruce moaned as the hand finally moved a bit lower into his clothes and caressed his quickly hardening shaft. Encouraged, he continued: “Your cock in my mouth... my ass...”

Soft lips kissed behind his ear just as something stiff pressed against his rear. “Your mouth, eh?” Kal asked and quickly released his grip on the other man. “Get to it, then!”

Wayne did not need to be told twice. He span around and knelt before his lover, earning a satisfied smirk. As he released the erection from the confines of Kent's jeans it sprang in his face, making him chuckle at how eager the other man was.

He listened closely to moans of bliss as he slowly licked around the tip, knowing how much his beloved liked to take things slow, even if he could barely control himself. Burning need often took over him, so it was up to  Bruce to set the pace; otherwise their encounters would end much too soon.  The hardness twitched in Bruce's grip with each touch of his tongue until it grew to its full size. Only then did he take it in, wrapping his lips around the tip, and sucked.

That initial suck made Clark gasp sharply. He ran a hand through his boyfriend's nea t hair, disturbing their perfection, and stared at him intently as he was worked to pleasure.  The lips moved over him and he moaned the other man's name, letting him know just how good it felt. The mouth felt hot and wet all around, and it was so good, so delicious, and even more when he remembered who exactly was on his knees.

It sent a chill down his spine each time that realization returned. Bruce Wayne, Gotham's – all of New Jersey's most wanted bachelor, the billionaire prince,  _the legendary Batman_ ...

Batman was sucking his cock and it was glorious.

The lips withdrew too soon, but even he needed to catch breath once in a while. He coughed, bringing the Kryptonian back to reality, and prompting him to pull him up from his knees.  Their lips met in a deep, almost ferocious kiss; it felt like a fight for dominance, a struggle to show which of them was stronger, better, but in the end Bruce would always give in. He wanted Superman to have him, someone else to be in charge, but he would not be idle, either.

He hardly registered that during that passionate kiss he got pushed towards Kal's bed. Strong hands undressed him quickly, at impossible speed, and he could not help but chuckle at that honest eagerness.  He liked sex, too, very much, but there was something adorable in the way his lover tried to speed things up whenever something got in the way, like clothes did just then.  And the occasional use of superspeed was alright;  even if Bruce risked those powers getting them to places he did not want to go, he knew that would not happen.

It was remarkable how two people could go from rivalry to such deep trust.

Wayne had little time to ponder all that as hands roamed his now naked body. He let out a wanton moan as he felt them trail his muscles, his sides, and then a slightly frustrated groan when he realized they were deliberately avoiding his demanding shaft.

His eyes met Clark's, and with a smirk he was told to turn around.  He obeyed without hesitation, laying on the bed on his front and with his rear right in front of his Kryptonian lover. He seldom let himself be so exposed, so vulnerable, but this was one of those rare times when he was not worried. As if reinforcing the notion that everything was fine fingers gently trailed over his cheeks and then between them, making him gasp softly as his entrance was teased.

“Is this where you want my cock now?” Kal asked, satisfying his partner's kink for dirty talk. Few realized that under the batsuit they would find the need to wear a different type of leather once in a while; the Bat had his fetishes, alright. Superman could not say he minded it. While somewhat more picky with his methods, he was not exactly a delicate man.

“Yes...” Bruce replied, bucking his rear more into the touch. “Please put it- AH!” he yelped at a sudden, hard slap to his cheek, and then to the other. “Yes!” he moaned. The sensation felt far more arousing than it should, making his hardness throb with even more anticipation. With all the fighting he did on a daily basis he could barely comprehend how good pain can feel. It was a paradox in itself, and with Clark able to make him squirm without giving him actual pleasure, he found himself in heaven. He loved it.

The spanking stopped abruptly after a few more slaps, but before Bruce managed to protest against the lack of attention, something cool was pressed against his entrance. His lover spread the lube around and a bit inside him carefully, but he poured it so generously that some flowed down to Wayne's balls. He heard himself moan at that pleasurable chill on his sensitive areas. But at this point it only served to tease him more.

“Please...” he breathed. “Please give it to me...”

Clark did not need to be told twice. As much as he enjoyed toying with the other man, he loved the feeling of those muscles around him even more. With how often they did that they needed little preparation; with one swift thrust the Kryptonian buried himself in Wayne to the hilt, feeling the rear clench around him on instinct. Judging by the soft cry it did not hurt his lover, and he took care to thrust against that one most sensitive spot inside.

Bruce found himself gripping the sheets as he was invaded so suddenly, so roughly. The hot breath on his neck only added to the sensation of having something stretch him from the inside; it was intense, intimate, so wonderful, he could not get enough, he wanted more, so much more...

A shiver shook him as strong fingers were finally, mercifully wrapped around his neglected shaft. The hardness was pushed into him with a bit more force now, but the hand moved in rhythm, stroking him from the base to tip each time.

“I love you...” Clark whispered into the other man's ear, his voice heavy with arousal and breaths ragged. The reply he got was no more than a raspy “you too”, but he did not need more. No matter how many times or how often they got so intimate, it was never the same. He pulled back a bit to better see his partner's frame, those muscles glistening with sweat, the unkempt hair.

Bruce had no idea how hot he looked.

A soft whimper reach his ears just as warm seed spilled into his hand in waves, the shaft twitching hard with each one. Soon enough, after barely a few more thrusts, the Kryptonian released as well, his sperm filling Wayne's clenching rear.

He leaned forward again and pressed himself against his lover's back, sighing. The rapid heartbeat started slowing down, and it calmed him down as well, as did the soft, deep breaths. He could not even care that his hand was all dirty.

Bruce turned around a bit and kissed Kent lazily on the lips. “We should clean up,” he said, his voice a little hoarse and throat dry.

Kal grinned. “You're amazing at pillow talk.”

“That's part of why you love me.”

“It is.”

 

As delightful as the holiday was, and as much as he needed a change of scenery and some time off, eventually Bruce Wayne had to return to the gloomy streets of Gotham City. Though he was not coming back alone; he managed to talk his boyfriend into staying with him in the manor for a while. He was to start work at the Daily Planet's new division at some point, and there was no harm in him just flying over to Metropolis each day for work. No one would notice that Clark Kent was not in his apartment, and no one would pay any attention to Superman leaving the city.

Gotham did not change at all in Wayne's absence; still the same dark place despite all the neons, still the centre for culture riddled with crime both petty and organized. A part of him was glad he could drive around to get them home, for taking the car through Old Gotham put them at risk of being jumped by both mobsters and paparazzi. A goofball billionaire and a reporter could hardly stand up to men with guns, though Bruce had to admit sometimes those with cameras felt far worse. Those he really could not hit.

As they pulled into the driveway in front of the manor they heard frantic barking. Titus pranced from Damian, who had his hand in a baseball glove, to Tim, who was holding a bat. The younger boy threw a ball at his stepbrother, and as it was knocked away far into the estate grounds, Titus rushed off to fetch it.

Bruce smiled, stepping towards the boys. It was a truly heart-warming scene, to see those two play together despite how hostile they used to be towards each other. Somehow, in time, they found some common ground in the fact that both were Robins, red or otherwise, and that the family meant the universe to both of them. Once the hatchet got buried it turned out that they are more alike than apart, and a bond started forming. And that made their father happy.

“Hey, Bruce!” Tim called as Damian tried to wrestle the ball from the dog. “Back already? Oh,” he smiled. “Hello, Clark.”

Kent returned the expression. “Your daddy dear talked me into staying here for a change.”

“For good?” Damian asked, holding the ball as Titus hurried to greet the two men in a torrent of slobbery kisses and happy barks. He did not even need to jump to reach something to lick, namely hands.

“I'll just need to move my things,” the Kryptonian said with a nod, ruffling the Dane's short fur. “Looking forward to being woken up by pets again.”

Before anyone added anything to that, Tim decided to change the topic and cleared his throat. Once eyes were on him, he said: “Guess what.”

Bruce did not need to consider it long. He knew well what information his adoptive son was waiting for, and judging by his high spirits, the news that came was good. “You got accepted back to school.”

The boy gave him a broad, smug grin. He was somewhat worried that he could not get in after having dropped out well over a year ago, suddenly and without much of an explanation. The sole reasons he did so was to find his stepfather when Bruce was lost, but could not tell the world that Red Robin's duty surpassed education. So he told them nothing, and now he intended to finish what he started.

Tim found himself in the man's awkward embrace, and hugged back. “I'm glad,” Bruce said with a smile. Of course he did not expect anyone in the family to do what he thought they should – not anymore, at least – but it was good to know they went for the right things.

“Dick and Babs are coming for dinner,” the boy announced as he detached himself from the hug.

“And how is she doing?” Clark asked.

“Great,” came the reply. “I gave them a few name ideas earlier today.”

“And we all know what they were,” Damian cut in, tossing the ball for Titus yet again.

Tim hmphed. “Jackson is a perfectly good name for a boy.”

“So is Damian.”

The Kryptonian chuckled. “What if it's a girl?”

“Or twins,” Bruce added with unhidden amusement.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Buzzkill.”

With an arm around his boyfriend, and heading into the manor, Wayne sent his adoptive son a broad grin. “If you like naming babies so much, maybe you should get your own.”

And so they left him mumbling to himself and to an afternoon of teasing by Damian.

Alfred was already waiting for them in the hall of the manor, clearly having noticed the car pull over; most likely through one of the large windows in the library, where he spend a lot of his time between duties. Surprisingly, he _did_ have time between duties, if not very much of it. He welcomed the two men with a warm, content smile, and did not press the matter when they refused to let him handle the luggage. He was not getting any younger, and a few bags were really nothing for Batman, let alone Superman.

“Don't give me that face, Alfred,” Bruce said, seeing a frown appear above those tired eyes, even if the smile remained. “You're not doing any heavy lifting, we wouldn't want to strain your heart.”

“Oh, but I'm doing fine, Master Bruce,” the butler said. “My heart is much better thanks to my new medication. If I were a man of clichés, I would say I feel ten years younger.”

“And I'm really glad to hear that,” Wayne told him with a smile. Of course he was glad. The family's servant was always so much more to him, like a father; first metaphorically, filling in for when his parents were out, which was almost every day. And then the metaphor became literal as the old butler was named the orphan's legal guardian. And even though Bruce never actually called him dad, they both made it very clear how they felt about each other, though through actions rather than words.

Despite the good news the two men would still not let Alfred carry their luggage, so instead he reminded them to come to dinner at 6 PM, as usual. Aside of Richard and Barbara, surprisingly, Jason was to join them as well.

Surprisingly to Clark, that is. Bruce knew because all was going according to his plan.

“So we have some time before dinner, then,” the Kryptonian said, setting the last bag down in his partner's bedroom.

“Somehow I don't feel like unpacking yet,” the other said, sitting down on the huge bed. He gave Kal a small, clearly seductive and slightly devilish smirk. “Come here...”

Clark did, chuckling quietly. “Oh, you're insatiable...” he said as he sat down and claimed his lover's lips in a deep kiss, not giving him any time to respond.

Not that the response would matter, anyway. As far as their teasing and erotic banter went, that remark was nothing, but more would come later as their little fun progressed. So far neither of them wanted to break away, kissing each other hungrily and with increasing passion.

Finally, when they parted, gasping for air, Bruce was able to retort. “You still love me,” he said in a quiet, raspy voice.

“Of course I do,” the Kryptonian said, making quick work of the other man's clothes and tossing them aside. Neither of them seemed to care that the clothing would get wrinkled, they were going to get changed for dinner anyway.

Bruce chuckled as he was stripped at a ridiculous speed, one that could only be exceeded by one man on the planet. For a moment he wondered what it would be like to sleep with the Flash, and that image of Barry Allen bent over him, panting and ramming into him made Wayne's shaft twitch. He sometimes let his imagination run wild during sex, partly hoping that some of those ideas could maybe one day be made real. But they were just that, imagination, fantasy, and his real love and his real happiness were right there beside him.

Clark kissed the tip of that twitching erection playfully, and then licked his way down to the base, slowly and deliberately. A moan answered, encouraging him to trail back up, and then lower again, pressing his tongue just a bit harder against the throbbing flesh.

He never got around to asking his boyfriend why he shaved his private areas, since there could be a multitude of reasons, but he did not much care. He only cared that his beloved enjoyed the sensation of having his balls toyed with; of fingers rolling them around, of lips and tongue fondling them. Oh, he loved those intense sensations, as evidence by him trembling and whimpering in bliss before the alien.

But the Kryptonian decided to go one step further and lowered his lips to Bruce's anus. He planted a wet kiss there, earning a delighted moan.

He smirked. “Say it,” he demanded, knowing just what buttons to push to appease the other man's fantasies. “Say what you want.”

Wayne took a deep breath, trying to compose himself and find his voice. “Lick me...”

“Hmm?” Clark almost purred, his slightly ragged breath teasing the demanding hole.

“Please lick my ass...” Bruce managed, his tone almost begging.

A tongue moved over his entrance at a teasingly slow pace, making him whimper in demand. The touch was soft and gentle, and sent small shivers down his spine. The Kryptonian knew exactly what to do to reduce the mighty Batman to a mewling, wanton slut.

Kal could not say he minded. Seeing the mysterious Dark Knight like that was a privilege. To have him put himself in a position so vulnerable, so exposed before anyone was yet another a sign of unconditional trust, and Clark felt blessed to have received that. And he made certain to show his appreciation as best as he could, and at that particular moment it meant pleasing his partner in all the ways that he loved.

Though as lovely as Bruce's rear was up close, the alien's own shaft demanded attention. He pulled away to reach into the night stand, hearing a groan of disappointment.

“Now, now...” he smiled, quickly lubing himself up as the other man panted heavily. “We don't want to make this hurt...”

“Fuck me...” Bruce demanded, pulling his legs up a bit and holding them like that, exposing his rear better.

He did not need to repeat that. Within moments something slick, hard and throbbing was pushed into him, making him utter a loud, satisfied groan. He was so used to having it inside that it easily slid all the way in, and he loved that sudden, sharp sensation of being filled in one thrust. He could hear the Kryptonian's heavy breathing even as his eyes gave in and fell closed, making him focus on the sensation of the shaft pulling back, then pushing in, then pulling back again...

At one point – he did not know how long it took – he felt hot, heavy breaths on his neck. Clark leaned forward, pressing himself against Wayne, inevitably forcing his abdomen to rub against the man's erection. His thrusts became shorter and quicker, his moans mixing with that of his partner. It felt good for both of them, and they were not afraid of showing how much more they wanted, how their bodies demanded the pleasure.

But nothing lasts forever. Soon enough Kal felt the muscles clenched around him, glad that he was once again able to withhold long enough for Bruce to come around him and spill between them. The tightness clasped him in short, intense spasms that corresponded with waves of sperm staining them both. A short groan escaped his lips as he finally stopped shaking, mostly because the other man was still thrusting inside him.

Eventually, after what seemed like an hour, Clark came as well, right into his boyfriend, with a low sigh right into his ear. That earned him a warm, content smile.

Bruce pulled just a bit up and their lips met in a gentle kiss.

 

Dinner turned out to be nothing less than perfect. They all came, the entire family, and despite Alfred's vocal protests they insisted on helping him with setting it all up. With so many mouths to feed the old butler would barely have time to eat himself, and being so much more than just a servant there was no way the family would let him not sit with them at the table.

Richard took his place beside Barbara, who wore a slightly loose dress now that her belly started to show. All through the evening they continued to send each other small smiled and glances full of content love. A lot of that night's conversation circled back to their plans for the future, especially baby names. That of course led to Dick being largely exasperated and Barbara giggling at how adorable that made him look.

Thankfully for him the conversation soon veered over to Timothy, mostly because Damian decided to tease him, in a rather playful, sibling kind of way, as opposed to their old hostile banter. And the reason he decided to do so soon proved rather topical, as apparently Tim found himself a date. With a blush, and in a somewhat embarrassed voice, he told them about a boy roughly his age that he met that one time and how things just sort of progressed on their own, and how he is really cute and how Tim enjoys his company and all...

Feeling that he was next to be cornered with such questions, Jason volunteered to help Alfred with serving dessert. As they handed out the ice cream, though, Bruce barely glanced at his. The moment could not be better, so he stood up from his seat and turned towards Clark.

His whole family, all those he cared about and loved were there, staring at him curiously. He could feel his heart pounding much higher than it should, somewhere around his throat, as he spoke.

“Clark,” he started. He had an entire speech planned out, but somehow he could not remember it anymore. So best to go with honesty. “I wanted to tell you something important and I've been working on it for days, but it's not as easy as I thought...”

The Kryptonian blinked rather slowly, not sure what to make of it. A few ideas crossed his mind, not all of them something he would want to hear. But, if Bruce for some unknown reason decided to end this – he would not, right, nothing indicated that something was not okay – surely he would not want to have that conversation in front of so many witnesses...?

His thoughts were immediately pushed away from the more unpleasant scenarios when Wayne knelt before him.

“I guess a long speech won't be necessary,” he said, reaching into his pocket and producing a plain, golden band. “I have just one question for you, my love. Will you marry me?”

Kal did not even register the smiles that surrounded them, too busy trying to handle his own feelings. He wanted to hold Bruce close and tight, to kiss him and not let go, but hat the same time he wanted to pace around the room to fight the rush of adrenaline.

He settled for pulling his lover up and into a deep, passionate kiss. As their lips were locked together he felt the cool golden band sliding onto his finger, and both of them knew that things would be even better, that they would build a real family, that their lives would be complete...

And then Bruce Wayne woke up.


End file.
